tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-134806202017-09-23T18:51:59.994+04:00Domina ArtisMy MemorandumTripleTeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04225826996922576411noreply@blogger.comBlogger170125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13480620.post-69508878219984622852016-11-11T10:34:00.000+04:002016-11-11T10:34:38.371+04:00Love/Life Coach (Matthew Hussey)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">&nbsp; &nbsp;Literally, the most learned, logical and intelligent guru I've come across, which is the reason he's successful I believe. This is not a post to promote Matthew Hussey, it's a post to project my thoughts on his views and what I learnt from him (which by the way I still only partly apply where I can in real life... shame on me, because I am momentarily in a learning process and in the wrong situation)<br /><br />&nbsp;The reason I am able to relate to Matthew is because I faced very similar situations to him, as a child, in the way I thought. The difference is, he managed to make something out of the lessons he learned and I got stuck in a loop not being able to get out of it because I had to get over many obstacles in my life first (not an excuse, it's what Arab girls have to go through, though I must admit, in comparison to many I consider myself privileged).<br />&nbsp; &nbsp;One of the similar stages I went through was when I started writing my own novel. In one of his Youtube videos, Matthew mentioned wanting to be original and therefore not polluting his own originality by reading other books. I had the exact same thoughts when writing my fantasy novel 'The Exes', and I was 16 at the time. I was afraid to use other ideas because I was worried I would be accused of plagiarizing. Moreover, I wanted my story to be exclusive. I do not regret it, I mention this because I was literally surprised at Matthew's comments, that he was thinking the same way. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/rKDQcvtb2wE/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/rKDQcvtb2wE?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div><br /><br />&nbsp; &nbsp;Another thought is him analyzing the teenage mentality, that teenagers at some stage worry so much about what others think that they try to fit into the perceived ideals in school. It wasn't as bad as that in my school but it was still noticeable. If I went back to school (with the adult mind I have now), I do not think I would have been popular either way, because I would not be dealing with mature adults to begin with. Matt might have a different opinion but I feel the environment you live in has a way of slightly forcing you to adapt in order to avoid conflict. That was one of my problems. I resent unnecessary conflict, especially those concerned with my own personal life and me constantly having to justify what I'm doing or why I do what I do, especially in the Arab world. There is a slight difference in culture here, since this may not be an issue in the west. People do whatever they feel like doing and when they misbehave they are given genuine reasons why it is not ok to act in a certain way (e.g. because it hurts people, because it's not polite, because it's counter-productive, because you won't grow from it...etc.) I consider all those good reasons not to do something. The moment one says, (because people will say this about you, &nbsp;because you have to remain low-profile, because the culture looks down on such things, because you are the soul person responsible for your family's reputation), that is when you shut down. It gives no way to opinion, you may have an opinion but you are not allowed to act on it.<br /><br />&nbsp; &nbsp;I know I think independently, and this sort of resentment builds up in someone who constantly has to play pretend, But that is not what this post is about. It's about the psychological effect this creates when one is forced within a long period of time. You get scared internally so that even when you are no longer in that environment, you are psychologically programmed to still believe that other people's opinions hold high value. You become your own prison. This happened to me.... me... the person I thought thinks independently. At least I thought I did. I realized I was pulled into a situation I did not want to and most importantly (did not need to) be in, simply because I was scared of conflict and what someone else may think. Now I am momentarily stuck and the resentment is building up in me again.<br />&nbsp; &nbsp;I wanted this to be an eye-opener to anyone stuck in a loop. Do not believe that holding low profile until the time is right would not affect you in the long run. It is important to be aware of that, because it's something the west cannot relate to. It is the environment Arabs live in due to the rules in their culture. You are a still developing country, you are 100 years back in some respects whether you wish to admit it or not. And it is not just women who are forced to adapt but men too.<br /><br />&nbsp; &nbsp;Matt is sadly hard to reach from a distance but his rules of achieving core confidence is something I still have to learn.<br />I &nbsp;just felt like writing this personal note to myself.<br /><br />Good day to you all.<br /><br /><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">TripleTee</div>TripleTeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04225826996922576411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13480620.post-65147415640450975292015-12-10T14:21:00.000+04:002015-12-10T14:34:25.834+04:00Artificial General Intelligence (AGI)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 19.84px;">This is the second post regarding this topic. Whatever I write here has more to do with getting my thoughts straight than actually holding any arguments for or against.</span></span><br /><div><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 19.84px;">Let's just say writing it down helps me keep track of my thoughts.</span></span><br /><div><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 19.84px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 19.84px;">&nbsp;I remember complaining about people who believed in robots that would be able to do as humans do and perhaps overrule them one day. I believed the speculation to be ridiculous. Reasons for that were basically the fact that they needed to be programmed by humans in the first place. Programming is basically a set of calculated formulas or codes that give out orders for the machine to carry out. I find the word <b>calculated</b> to be crucial here. To me humans have too much of a free will to be calculated. That is not how we seemed to function to me until my brother mentioned that maybe we (humans) are programmed as well. In the beginning my reaction was 'what in the blazes are you saying we're programmed?' I'm trying to lead a reasonable conversation here. Then it dawned on me.... genetic coding? Are we genetically programmed to act the way we do?</span></span></div><div><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 19.84px;">And if that is true, does that mean that our free will (decisions and choices) is limited? Is there only so much we can wish for? Or is our free will infinite? Or we ourselves biological robots?</span></span></div><div><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 19.84px;">I could wish for anything that could randomly pop up in my head right now. But perhaps the only things that would pop up are memories already registered. I could wish to jump like a frog, or be burried underground deep under the ocean, or wriggle like a scubbledubble (whatever that is). Or I could try wishing for something no human wished for before by being creative..skwiggle like a skiddlefiddle. &nbsp;Just for the heck of it... just because I can. Or were those wishes programmed into me as well? Let's say my choices are finite and I would then not be able to wish for something I know nothing of... what I mentioned here were just word games and bringing letters together to form an unknown word. Again, nothing special.&nbsp;</span></span></div><div><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 19.84px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 19.84px;">We apparently don't get born with a blank page waiting to be filled with experience but rather as a negative waiting to be produced to bring out the picture. To me that does make more sense...What if that means that all the choices we make or don't make are all a set of probabilities? What happens in me when I say to myself "My mind tells me to do this but my heart tells me otherwise"..Is it a mystery or simply a complicated thought process all stimulated by the mind? Why do I sometimes feel sad and not know how or where it's coming from? Does that mean I can actually control who I love? Or am I genetically programmed to love only certain types of people who meet my genetically preferred criteria? Or would anyone else manage to make me love them if they find out what the genetic formula built in me is? Perhaps love is not unpredictable as people think.&nbsp;</span></span></div><div><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 19.84px;">Does a variety in choices and personalities necessarily negate this phenomenon? Or does it simply mean that the genetic coding in their bloodline developed differently from mine?</span></span></div><div><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 19.84px;">Does everything I do and say have a historical ancestory background? (Which means I would not be able to pull off anything my ancestors haven't pulled off before because it is not a part of my genetic code. And that the only evolution and progress I make becomes more apparent and developed due to the intermingling of different races (thus genetics)..which create new formulas, which render humans either more developed by time, but not in the meantime. Therefore we are a complex embodiment of codes.... codes that developed throughout millions of years. Civilisations lived and died to come to our point today.&nbsp;</span></span></div><div><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 19.84px;">If our codings and choices truly are finite.... then I find it not at all impossible to create a digital equivalent. only instead of using food for fuel it would be using electricity. And maybe... just maybe. Once a formula could be thought of that understands the concept of our free will (that is) probability... a robot might be given estimations of its own. Which is only theoretically possible if it undergoes growing up and learning in time...just like we do. Am I beginning to understand the concept? ... Are robots beginning to sound more human?</span></span></div><div><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 19.84px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 19.84px;">Suddenly I'm thinking it's possible. Though the fact of our very being, our existence, our individuality. If that could truly be preserved by uploading our minds as Calum Chace imaginatively describes. If my sense of existence only comes to life if my individual neurons remain actively intact the way they always were. ... then perhaps I could be digitally reborn. Perhaps my brain neurons are as unique to me as my fingerprints.&nbsp;</span></span></div><div><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: &quot;helvetica neue&quot; , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 19.84px;">Perhaps there could be two of me.... this thought still needs to be processed in my head.&nbsp;</span></span></div><div></div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">TripleTee</div>TripleTeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04225826996922576411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13480620.post-36440918501993534192015-10-06T00:59:00.002+04:002015-10-06T01:00:07.295+04:00Independent Artificial Intelligence<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.arts-wallpapers.com/movie_wallpapers/I-Robot/img12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.arts-wallpapers.com/movie_wallpapers/I-Robot/img12.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div>&nbsp; Yes, I do believe Robots and the machine would be developed to assist Mankind to a certain degree (Or harm depending on how the machines are used), but for the last time and for the love of Pete my fellow humans, they will not develop their own sense of judgement or feelings. It is technically impossible, because the command: go out in the world and learn. Is too vague a command to give a machine. It is not the way the formulas work. Programmers can pitch in here as they like and explain the process if I failed to.&nbsp;</div><div>&nbsp; If you wish to give a robot the command to go out and learn (so that it would develop as a human), you'll also have to define the command 'learn'. What does learning entail? How will it be programmed to learn? If you program the machine to pick the right choice, there will have to be a set of rules it would have to be programmed on in order to make its decision. These rules are calculated, not blindly (randomly) picked through intuition (because that sort of thing cannot be instilled in a machine)(unless the commmand was pick randomly, but even then there is certain to be a probability formula involved)... not only because machines are technical material.. but because we humans ourselves do not know what feelings are or where they come from.&nbsp;</div><div>I believe feelings come from the brain...and that the brain is a complex organ that still needs to be studied. But until the complexity of feelings is cracked, robots will not feel. End of story.&nbsp;</div><div>Robots will calculate and be programmed to possess human-like qualities. But these qualities will be programmed qualities instilled into them by humans. Of course one would like to believe otherwise... humans never sieze to dream but well... try to be logical about it.</div><div><br /></div><div>I just rolled my eyes enough in the past few weeks. I had to express my annoyance here.</div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">TripleTee</div>TripleTeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04225826996922576411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13480620.post-80412823600072849632015-07-14T18:55:00.002+04:002015-07-14T19:03:43.833+04:00A Question of the Soul<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />Before a few months I've had to undergo some sort of X-ray to check out whether I had any infections in the stomach and so on. That was the first time I've been put under anesthesia. The first time I experienced....nothing. Literally nothing, other than perhaps a few hints of what had been done to me by the time I woke up.<br />All I remember was hearing the Doctor say, 'and now...sweet dreams to you... 1...2...3..' and I was still there...or was I? I asked her... yes??? 1...2...3 what? (they were just standing there, so I asked)...what's supposed to happen?<br />I don't know whether the question baffled them, but they didn't answer until I asked: 'When's the X-ray going to begin?'<br />The nurse said: 'We're already done with the X-ray' And I go like...'what?? but I was awake the whole time.' After which she says: 'No you've been under anesthesia'<br /><br />I understood the magnificence of this discovery of surgical anesthetics in 1846. Before, surgeries used to be performed without, which is a scenario I don't even want to imagine. So humour me for a moment when I start putting 1 and 1 together. Why is it that I felt nothing? Did I experience non-existence?<br />It was definitely not sleeping. It was a mock death. Not only because of the biological procedures that were being undertaken, but because the very aspect of time is negated. I did not feel myself go to sleep and wake up. I felt as if that very portion of time they used to X-ray me, was almost non-existent. Does that mean that time only exists when we do? And being dead would then mean, that time no longer is....<br /><br />I ask you to humour me because it made me wonder. Just for the sake of argument lest any religious lunatic read this blog. It's always been a question whether the soul existed and was a seperate entity from the biological body. When they 'anesthetized' me, why did I not feel my existence, had I had a soul? The anesthesia is supposed to work biologically... not spiritually. So not being able to feel myself's existence at all..<br />Is it a hint that perhaps the soul does not exist?<br />Or would the religious argue that it did affect my soul?<br />Or would you say souls disappear with your consciousness?<br /><br />I know no one can answer this philosophical search for the meaning of life. But I feel a part of the answer lies within the anesthetics.&nbsp;</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">TripleTee</div>TripleTeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04225826996922576411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13480620.post-20349146225082966552014-06-03T13:04:00.002+04:002014-06-03T13:10:57.557+04:00The Red Viper Vs The Mountain (Spoiler!!)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">&nbsp; &nbsp;If anyone here watches The Game of Thrones, do share your thoughts. I was desperate yesterday for another opinion, only not many here watch it. It is by all means no series for the weak-hearted. But I must admit that the last scene was far from what I expected. I never expected Oberyn Martell to ever lose... but I guess that was the whole point, wasn't it? To cleverly mislead us. Although I did think in the end that anyone with that sort of confidence in real life wouldn't achieve good results, no matter how good he is.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.nerdist.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/game-of-thrones-the-mountain-and-the-viper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.nerdist.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/game-of-thrones-the-mountain-and-the-viper.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></div><br />Well yes he was good, far better than The Mountain as a fighter. But rather careless wasn't he? And so close to ending the injustices too... Didn't that just make you slam something?<br /><br />No movie or series ever shocked me this much. I literally sat there after the end of the last scene... just silently trying to comprehend what I just thought happened. I sincerely kept thinking, there must have been a mistake. But the author truly wants to show us a world full of unfairness and misery. This scene didn't only shock me because of the horrific effects they displayed in it (brilliant by the way!!! Very real!!).... but because I thought in these pagan days such things really did happen. Though fiction, this story has immense tastes of reality. So yes, I sat there for what felt like 10 minutes perhaps. I liked Martell, so that was a complete disappointment.<br />What did you think?&nbsp;</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">TripleTee</div>TripleTeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04225826996922576411noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13480620.post-67187055061010370272014-05-28T12:00:00.001+04:002014-05-28T12:20:54.147+04:00The New Sherlock Holmes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">One of my favourite childhood stories and an intimidating detective. Of course nothing beats the books, and I am usually a fan of the old times, but here BBC broadcasts another amazing version of Sherlock. And funny enough it's a version I grew fond of, despite it being set in the 21st century.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://news.bbcimg.co.uk/media/images/48447000/jpg/_48447787_sherlockwatson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://news.bbcimg.co.uk/media/images/48447000/jpg/_48447787_sherlockwatson.jpg" /></a></div><br /><br />I started wondering if this was a work of fiction or if the "science of deduction" really does work. Did Doyle research the procedures? Was he a genius himself? Insanely enough, the theories, if one thinks about it, according to the chain of "small" evidences, really do make sense. It makes me wonder sometimes, did actual detectives think of setting themselves to Doyle's way of thinking? Or would you say these are just the lunatic dreams of a fan, and things in the real world work differently?<br />Well my impression is, that though a lot of events in his stories don't usually happen in real life, the deductions and hints of where someone should look for clues in a crime scene (the little things being what matters) are real to me.<br /><br />Did anyone ever try measuring a person's height from the length of his/her stride?<br /><br />Well, I've never really given it much thought before but it is food for thought.<br /><br />I also find it curious that this blog is being read by the most unlikely readers. It kind of motivated me to get back on track. So I guess I'm back :)<br /><br />Till the next post.<br /><br /><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">TripleTee</div>TripleTeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04225826996922576411noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13480620.post-91935910803027044732013-04-12T19:17:00.003+04:002013-04-12T19:22:03.326+04:00Updates<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">&nbsp; &nbsp;Not only has it been a while since I posted in this long-lived diary/journal, but a lot of things have changed since then. I remember the first time I started this blog was when I was around 18. Now I'm 26. Although the last 4 years were not active one may say. So what has changed?<br /><div><br /></div><div>&nbsp; &nbsp;Well for one, the English Sabla died out *which was the forum that started me off blogging in the first place*, old members are gone and the new ones have no agendas to lead cyber wars against each other. In other words, it has underlined the definition of complete and utter boredom with the whole concept of forums.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>&nbsp; For another, I've pretty much either forgotten my once well learned English or I've developed a new way of expressing myself , since studying other languages tends to have that effect on you. I guess the readers are the better judges, but do not be surprised if the writing style has developed in a most awkward way. I've been busying myself with German for the past year.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>&nbsp; &nbsp;For yet another change, I've finally figured out how the world works out here. And believe me, living as an independent student abroad will show you a thing or two about life in general. And the more you experience the more you realize how vital it was to have experienced what you experienced. And the more you realize what a vital stage it was, the angrier it'll make you for not having had the chance to have experienced it earlier. Then the further you go with your chain of thoughts, the more you'll realize what your parents must have gone through to make your current lives possible. And that's where you just stop with an exclamation mark in that bubble above your head.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>&nbsp; &nbsp;I've a few more minutes before I have to go... this was just a way to pass my waiting time. All in all, all's well here :) that is assuming there are still readers on this blog at all *highly doubt it* .. but it's nice to save such journals nonetheless, don't you agree?</div><div><br /></div><div>-Thuraya</div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">TripleTee</div>TripleTeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04225826996922576411noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13480620.post-21835166289542700422011-02-22T13:57:00.009+04:002011-02-22T17:01:29.937+04:00Inspiration Renewed (Tolkien's Brilliance)<div style="text-align: left;">Here's a background on my most favored author that most people do not know. Anyone who read his books and watched the movies not knowing its history would not do it justice. So I have taken the liberty of posting it here for anyone interested.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I have always been a big fan of J.R.R.Tolkien's novels but not until today did I find out what made his stories so mind boggling. If I were to write a paper praising his profound ideas and intentions I could write books on it. It was rare to see someone embedded with what I would consider true Christian values whether I believed in them or not, and even though many might not agree with the fact that his stories proved to be the best, no one could deny that they were and still are the most original and most creative works of all time, because that is what they are.</div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://www.timesonline.co.uk/multimedia/archive/00156/fp-160_156885a.jpg" /></div><div>J.R.R. Tolkien was a professor of ancient languages and mythology in Oxford University. He started writing his first novel 'The Hobbit' at around 1925 with his first lines 'In a hole in the ground there lives a hobbit'. Little did he know that that was going to be the start of a long journey to the trilogy of 'Lord of the Rings' and the most favored fantasy novel to many.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>I first read 'The Hobbit' and 'Lord of the Rings' when I was 11 years old. My brother introduced them to me as being his favorite books and as a younger sister who grew accustomed to copying him, I of course aimed to read them too. That was the first inspiration I received to becoming an author myself. My goals however similar were still completely different, and only recently did I find out how different they were. The dreams I had of creating a fantasy world of my own were mere artistic and inventive hopes of an artist who would do it for pleasure and self-satisfaction. The world Tolkien created was made to become a practiced culture that England would take as a base for English Mythology and Literature. He wanted to give England and the English language a rich history because he was disappointed that English back then had no substance or long background or real culture for that matter. It used to be a primitive language spoken by the commoner where French used to be the prestigious one before the rise of the Shakespearean era.</div><div><br /></div><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J-d4AfXvor0/TWOulsM6moI/AAAAAAAAAUo/GJHlVIR2Y10/s400/mapofME.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576492726158531202" /><div>Tolkien did not create a mere story. He created history, and culture that was supposed to have happened at a given point of a given time. For that was the way his books were written. They were written chronologically as historical documents. The stories of Middle-Earth were supposed to have happened during the pagan pre-Christian age that had long been forgotten by mankind. And all that was made believable despite the surreal elements added to it. 'The Hobbit' and the 'Lord of the Rings' are fantasy stories. They did not happen in the past, but the fundamental ideas of them did. Just as the fundamental ideas of Greek Mythologies such as Homer's Iliad and Odyssey, Virgil's Aeneid and every other myth told before that were believed to be true.</div><div>That is because the general stories and wars did happen. We are sitting here today because our forefathers fought and risked their lives for the lives we now live. That was the allegory and essence of the history of Middle-Earth. That is what fascinated me even more. I was not reading the works of a mere fantasy but the very heart of a pagan, heroic humanity. </div><div>The difference in cultures and art of each ethnic background he created. The languages were real languages he invented from scratch, they were not mere gibberish. </div><div>To think that such a world and all its details could be created and brought together by one man which naturally would have taken civilizations to develop, reflected J.R.R.Tolkien's brilliance. </div><div><br /></div><div>I am now convinced that the idol I chose to follow was better than I could have hoped for. </div><div>Even though my goals differ in matter and in manner, and whatever I chose to create would never hold anything to Tolkien's historical legends, I nevertheless hope to make my stories as authentic as he had made his.</div><div>I am also glad I got the chance to base my Batchelor's project on his works. This post was written as a result of that. lol. </div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">TripleTee</div>TripleTeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04225826996922576411noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13480620.post-27523087027030675412011-01-15T08:56:00.006+04:002011-01-15T10:25:17.869+04:00My Finally Remembered Reoccurring Dream<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>I just woke up from the most insane dream and though I usually forget most my dreams I was fortunate enough to remember this one. This is going to be a little complicated to explain and the only place I could think of saving it is here.<div>Now I guess I know from Inception that when you appear in a dream you never know how you get there XD. </div><div>I don't remember the very beginning but I do remember my stepfamily were around and we were taking them site seeing to a place I knew very well. It's not just because I happen to know it very well in the dream... I really do know it well because I dreamed about that place so many times before and it keeps reoccurring in most my dreams. I am thrilled now that I remember some of the details.</div><div>The place I'm talking about is not pleasant orrr safe. It's dark, it's in a sort of large cave and it's extremely dangerous, but then again it's not just a cave like al-hoota or anything... it's somewhere between a mine with a lot of metalwork and Moria (if anyone ever watched lotr), to explain better... though it is huge, the scary part is the ways are not safe, some are narrow, most ways are made with those steel tracks that have rusted over time</div><div> and feel like they could give way any minute... and that <i>would</i> matter... that would matter a great deal because some areas in this cave go so deep down that you can't see what's down there and the metal is your only support. Then there is the circular nightmare, my most feared part of the cave. Imagine you are in a high place and you're supposed to pass a circular narrow steel track with no support whatsoever except for a rope with some handles to hold on to as you walk across the wriggly metal curves that are not standing still by the way. they move around sometimes, so that knowing where to keep your feet might be tricky.</div><div>I did this before in my dreams and I believe I managed to pass it twice. I managed to do it with less fear because i thought the second time that I'll never have to come back here again. The family seemed to be excited about it and I kept wondering whether they knew what was at stake. Apparently they had an inkling and brought certain props to demonstrate. I found they even got a small version of the circular pathway. I thought I'd test myself on that. So I went on it with one of my step cousins in the bottom helping to move the paths around as I try to cross them. She was around 16 and was getting tired of moving things around because I was taking my sweet time passing very slowly. A fall from here might be just painful, a fall from the real thing would be my death. Because here at least I know I'm falling on solid ground that isn't too high. There I'm falling into a dark depth I cannot even see the end of. It's like realizing you just fell off an aeroplane. You would not want to live through the remainder of the fall wondering when you're going to hit the bottom.</div><div>So when I was too slow on the prop my step cousin got very impatient and her mom kept telling her to bear with it and give me a chance. She could see that I was scared and I could tell from my poor demonstration that she doubted I've actually ever been to the cave before. After stumbling a few times I fell. I fell on the ground and they laughed because I probably looked funny. But to me... figuring a mistake like that would mean I'm not fit to cross such an area a third time... I WILL die.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>So why did I not say anything about how dangerous it was? Because I think they knew it was dangerous and I didn't want to sound like a pussy. Make sense? </div><div>But since this was a dream I suddenly appeared in the cave alone, out of nowhere. All by myself, no one was around me except when I paid attention, there was a white clad guy by the end of the circular path waiting for me. This time it was the real cave and I was a few paces away from the circular thing I JUST failed to pass the small version of a few minutes ago. I knew I couldn't go back because the rest of the path backwards isn't safe either. I had to grit my teeth and do it. But what was that guy doing there? He didn't smile at me or anything... if anything he gave me an evil stare.</div><div>The place behind the circular doom always used to look like laboratories. and the lights around were green. I just never knew people actually worked there still, so it was creepy. I thought I wanted to get this over with so I ignored him and held the handles on the hanging rope to start. My fear was genuine. I wanted to avoid falling by all costs. But did you think he just stood there watching? No, he started distracting me... I ignored.. a lot of things happened... maybe even flashbacks from the other times I crossed this path, and the people I used to be with... I believe I remembered their advices and hints on what to do when I wanted to cross this place again. I remember seeing a face of someone I dreamt of before.. It was a guy with shoulder length black hair... I remember I liked him, but there's no one in real life I know with that description so I assumed he was a figment of my imagination. After these flashbacks I found myself falling with my hand still holding the handles on the rope. I was determined not to let go. I failed to pass and now my only chance of survival was to keep holding on to the rope. so what did you think that white clad guy of whom I could only assume was a scientist or researcher was doing?... He was trying to cut off the rope. So I had to find a place to swing to . By swinging I got the rope out of his reach and landed in a weird place. Where? Apparently there was a war in the caves. And I landed on a windowsill of where they kept the weird species they made... those species were extremely huge and looked dangerous. One of them looked dinosaur-like and would have reached out to me if I didn't move to the other sill. I kept moving till I found another huge animal I could not describe. They all seemed to have wings or some sort of limb that would help them fly and I reached the last sill where I found other humans riding something that wasn't so frightening. they took me in. Turned out they were the Royal family of that area getting ready for war and asked me to join in. They resembled Prince Charles and his sons... don't get me wrong, they looked different and I never met any of them anyway, but they sort of resembled them in a way. How did my dream switch to this? I don't know. But I was glad I no longer faced the danger of falling.</div><div><br /></div><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_b99TknDd38Q/SNL4U_3lGQI/AAAAAAAAC58/bwz52Vo9l60/s640/Stairecase.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 480px; height: 640px;" border="0" alt="" /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">The narrow paths might look something like this</span></div><div><br /></div><div>That's when I woke up. </div><div>I tried to write all the details I could remember. The image of the cave is something I want to keep.</div><div>Sounds like a nightmare in a book doesn't it? Well I do have my exams this week and I do dread the outcome of this month since it's my last semester.... I think that is why I had this dream... and I don't feel like it will have a happy ending. </div><div><br /></div><div>I will try to draw the scenes from my head the next time I have time. </div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">TripleTee</div>TripleTeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04225826996922576411noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13480620.post-62117987901738269452010-09-07T20:01:00.005+04:002010-09-07T21:19:02.229+04:00To The Idiot<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/TIZxbM-CUlI/AAAAAAAAAT0/k7mBhBm0SWs/s1600/me+copy.jpg"><br /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/TIZxMtkJjkI/AAAAAAAAATs/JPlZB7vd5As/s1600/him+copy.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 172px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/TIZxMtkJjkI/AAAAAAAAATs/JPlZB7vd5As/s200/him+copy.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514219256965336642" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; "><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/TIZzGtMzJSI/AAAAAAAAAT8/kUfd_OtUOcs/s200/me+copy.jpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514221352811439394" /></span></a><div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>I have many things to say to that idiot who complained about my personal space online to my parents. How low can a person stoop to be bothered with other people's lives. Especially when that person is a stranger who neither knows nor cares about him. To be complained about for having what was deemed culturally inappropriate on FB. If the idiot is reading, he's the best example of Omani Jerks who've nothing better to do than gloat at other people's girls because their lives're full of uselessness. <div>I may have made the mistake of not privatizing my info to avoid such people which I now managed, but I ask myself what he was doing checking out my space in the first place, and how many things he would have on his own FB probably far worse than I ever thought of doing. But since he's given the freedom to do as he pleases no one's there to lekh him with a khaizaran (whip him with a stick) unlike most unfortunate girls in this country. This is the example of many Arab men who make themselves look like they're worth something over women. And usually the woman would be in a delicate situation if her family were not reasonable. Which is luckily not the case with me. I promise you an ass like that's been messing with the wrong person. Because unlike other women, I will not sit by and cower... I'll put you back to your stinking place whoever the hell you think you are. <div><br /></div><div>TripleTee </div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">TripleTee</div>TripleTeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04225826996922576411noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13480620.post-66356949459605478582010-07-19T20:19:00.004+04:002010-08-03T14:28:13.941+04:00Merlin (brief review)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://theflickcast.com/wp-content/uploads//merlin-nbc-tv-shows1.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 520px; height: 390px;" src="http://theflickcast.com/wp-content/uploads//merlin-nbc-tv-shows1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div>I'm addicted to this newly discovered English series. Thanks to Violet >.></div><div>seems like a retelling of the famous (King Arthur, sword in the stone, Merlin) chain of English folklore. And it's apparently being told in a different way this time. </div><div>Well leaving aside the magic and my love for fantasy... I also very much enjoyed the reality of the society it showed which I think is still going on now a days. Society ranks and how a servant's words aren't counted as much as a noble's as well as how they were treated. I could go on.</div><div>I just think it reflects many problems going on in real life. I'm curious how the story will carry on. I guess I'd recommend it to anyone. Cuz I luurrv it! </div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">TripleTee</div>TripleTeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04225826996922576411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13480620.post-5220523206325014472010-03-13T12:57:00.004+04:002010-03-13T13:48:56.582+04:00One of My First Lyrics (Time for You to Rise)<p align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/S5te5r5ZmHI/AAAAAAAAARE/2a7KoLL5BDM/s1600-h/albnr.png"><img style="WIDTH: 299px; HEIGHT: 86px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448052519363778674" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/S5te5r5ZmHI/AAAAAAAAARE/2a7KoLL5BDM/s400/albnr.png" /></a></p><br /><div align="center">This song was meant for a manga/anime 'Alumni' that I'm trying to make.<br /></div><br />I made up the words for 2 songs so far... All that's left is to turn them into ones which my friends and I will be working on. Here are the lyrics of the 2nd.<br />The first was a love melody 'I'm About to Fly'... I decided to share the second... it's a sort of combat music to which the Lyrics areee...<br /><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Do you feel the whisper in the air?</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">The melodies it sings</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Get on your feet it says to you</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Get on and spread your wings</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">These are the days for you to rise</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">And soar above the skies</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">It’s time for you to use your strength</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">And savour all your ties</span><br /><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic; FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Chorus</span><br /><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic; FONT-WEIGHT: bold">As far up as mountains reach</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic; FONT-WEIGHT: bold">You will climb the angles steep</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic; FONT-WEIGHT: bold">As far down as oceans go</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic; FONT-WEIGHT: bold">You will dive to bottoms low</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic; FONT-WEIGHT: bold">It is time for you to rise</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic; FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Time to savour all your ties</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic; FONT-WEIGHT: bold">It is time and time won’t stop</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic; FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Not until you reach the top</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic; FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Let us wipe out all those lies</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic; FONT-WEIGHT: bold">It is time for you to rise</span><br /><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Do you see the thunderstorm?</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Do you sense the hurricane?</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">You will have to walk it through</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Through the wind and through the rain</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Get on your feet they say to you</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Get back on and spread your wings</span><br /><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic; FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Chorus</span><br /><br /><br />Thought I'd make it simple. Songs should be like that no? well when the music's done will post it here. :p<div class="blogger-post-footer">TripleTee</div>TripleTeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04225826996922576411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13480620.post-61243310356517040732010-02-25T17:54:00.005+04:002010-08-03T14:30:02.051+04:00Dear Reader<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/S4aB3y3yxSI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/V8GwO4anThk/s1600-h/girl.png"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 70px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442179995272398114" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/S4aB3y3yxSI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/V8GwO4anThk/s400/girl.png" /></a><br />I know I haven't updated my blog in a while. Truth is I've been busy designing it as you can see. (if you're using Internet Explorer you probably won't see what I mean since it for some reason doesn't show the background... I recommend firefox).<br /><br />I've a few more things to do on this blog such as my music box and Links to <a href="http://3tmanga.blogspot.com/">My Manga</a> blog.<br />So I'll be pending till I'm done with all that. Thank you for your patience :p<br /><br />(Did any of that just sound like a phone operator... )<div class="blogger-post-footer">TripleTee</div>TripleTeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04225826996922576411noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13480620.post-56364128730044644112009-12-25T22:41:00.012+04:002009-12-26T17:16:26.477+04:00The Novelist's Tohru- colouredThis image was sketched by the Non-crowned Princess (<a href="http://howtolovedavey.blogspot.com/2009/12/kyotohru-part-3.html">here</a>) in her blog and I felt like coloring it in since I liked the simple lines.<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /> For the record Princess... the sketch itself was traced and I slightly changed a few angles and measurements for accuracy. I hope you don't mind.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Original Sketch<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/SzUSzJsCDMI/AAAAAAAAAOY/LrJLZAIEdSM/s1600-h/n1633360984_52972_7302.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 294px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/SzUSzJsCDMI/AAAAAAAAAOY/LrJLZAIEdSM/s400/n1633360984_52972_7302.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419258396593491138" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Traced<br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/SzUVWqlx3sI/AAAAAAAAAOo/aoPnwCDHKYc/s1600-h/sketch.png"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 294px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/SzUVWqlx3sI/AAAAAAAAAOo/aoPnwCDHKYc/s400/sketch.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419261205744312002" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Coloured<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/SzUZWrTqfmI/AAAAAAAAAPI/JkNj-OULF_g/s1600-h/sketchlittlegirl.png"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 245px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/SzUZWrTqfmI/AAAAAAAAAPI/JkNj-OULF_g/s400/sketchlittlegirl.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419265603983277666" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />BG Added<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/SzUaiNluoYI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/0Snl0IJw4_A/s1600-h/girl3.png"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/SzUaiNluoYI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/0Snl0IJw4_A/s400/girl3.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419266901676040578" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Of course the BG could be a lot better but I'm not fond of spending too much time on one thing.<br /><br />What say you? Look anything like Tohru? :p<br />Hope you like it :)<br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">TripleTee</div>TripleTeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04225826996922576411noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13480620.post-28644974354365704862009-12-21T15:15:00.008+04:002009-12-21T20:50:32.517+04:00I Will Get There...<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/Sy9aaXPOzYI/AAAAAAAAAOA/z0HZ7ta3V-M/s1600-h/girloutline.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 258px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/Sy9aaXPOzYI/AAAAAAAAAOA/z0HZ7ta3V-M/s400/girloutline.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417648285710994818" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/Sy9a-r-dGmI/AAAAAAAAAOI/ltFZVpwzB1Q/s1600-h/girlupdated+copy.png"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 270px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/Sy9a-r-dGmI/AAAAAAAAAOI/ltFZVpwzB1Q/s400/girlupdated+copy.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417648909753064034" border="0" /></a></div> <div style="text-align: left;"> An example of a heroine with stern eyes. One who never shed a tear in her endeavors. She still reaches out to her intended goal though it appears far out of her reach. Her torn clothes and worn out state of mind do not seem to affect her determination. Though she doubts she will get there, she still has a longing to do so. And this hand gesture and gaze mean that even though the chances are not in her favor, for some reason, the candle of hope still burns in her chest, making her determined not to give up.<br />"I will eventually reach you... One way or another..."<br /><br />I was lucky to draw this expression... the sketch probably portrays her personality better because the coloring of the finished artwork is simple.<br />But it's the look on her face that I wanted to pass. They say actions speak louder than words...<br />This girl represented all the words I had in mind.<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">TripleTee</div>TripleTeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04225826996922576411noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13480620.post-31575760178573613222009-11-24T11:13:00.006+04:002009-12-21T20:51:39.017+04:00Luck Does Not Exist?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://thumbs.dreamstime.com/thumb_238/1203116585l1696u.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 190px; height: 190px;" src="http://thumbs.dreamstime.com/thumb_238/1203116585l1696u.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />So apparently I hear luck does not exist. I'm curious to hear people's opinions on this. There was a discussion in the girl's dorm on whether there was such a thing as luck or not. I was completely with the fact that a person could get lucky and a friend retaliated with the fact that whatever happens happens due to coincidence, not luck. It was a very confusing discussion. Then another suggested for the word luck to be defined and I defined it as.<br /><br />*Something good that happens that does not usually happen or that has a small chance of happening*<br /><br />So what about the lottery? If I won a car tomorrow... I'd be considered lucky... others did not agree... they said it was coincidence... not luck. Because if a person bought 10 tickets and another bought 1 it's not necessary that the one who got 10 would win. He just has a higher chance of winning. I did not understand how that statement negates the existence of luck exactly. Cuz to me the person who gets the ticket in the end is the one who got lucky no matter how many tickets he bought.<br /><br />I got torn in between and wasn't able to decide yesterday though.<br /><br />However, I decided today that I still believe in luck. I believe luck exists because I am not the only one living on earth. There are other people as well. Which means I do not have power over everything... and the things I don't have power over... could either go with or against me according to how lucky I would get. (which means how many things would go with or against me) Luck does not label a person as a fortunate or unfortunate fellow. It's not a supernatural power... it's merely the definition above. And to me, the definition above DOES exist. If something good happens to you that does not usually happen it means you got lucky.<br />I believe yesterday's confusion was due to the wrong definition or interpretation of luck.<br />So I'll just agree to disagree.<br /><br />What do you think?<div class="blogger-post-footer">TripleTee</div>TripleTeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04225826996922576411noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13480620.post-68865889244160407292009-11-14T21:08:00.006+04:002009-12-21T20:52:08.444+04:00Come for AuditionsSo we're setting up a poster to announce the timings of auditions for several plays. My friend came up with Sam says... I want you. All that came up in my mind after that was a witch pointing and staring. So I drew the adorable lady down here.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/Sv7mprY9Z0I/AAAAAAAAANw/v0ruAcXI3DQ/s1600-h/evilwitchtrace+copy.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 270px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/Sv7mprY9Z0I/AAAAAAAAANw/v0ruAcXI3DQ/s400/evilwitchtrace+copy.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404010206587610946" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://i7.photobucket.com/albums/y261/TripleTee9/evilwitch.jpg">sketch</a><br /><br />^The sketch is up there if you're interested.<br /><br />She says, 'we'll be waiting for you'...<br /><br />so what do you think?<br />would she make you want to come for auditions? :p<div class="blogger-post-footer">TripleTee</div>TripleTeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04225826996922576411noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13480620.post-55091790471154482932009-10-29T22:27:00.010+04:002009-10-29T23:03:05.287+04:00Prologue To The Exes 2I finally started writing the first chapter of the second sequel to The Exes. I thought I might share the prologue here. Those who read the first one will recognize the characters. Those who haven't however will understand the story later on anyway.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/SunhEAL2TLI/AAAAAAAAANg/RjUmFnS6s8c/s1600-h/bannertheexes.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 80px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/SunhEAL2TLI/AAAAAAAAANg/RjUmFnS6s8c/s400/bannertheexes.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398093087265672370" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Prologue</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">From The Past</span><br /></div><br />Across azure skies a bunch of tiny leaves drifted into emptiness and solitude. Neither sound of breath nor feel of existence were evident. Yet past its eerie atmosphere a spark of light found its way through withered ruins. Bright and beautiful as a river of shining pearls, water springs flowed around an old room that was long forgotten. The rays fell over faded pages and blunt edges. As discolored as the papers were, in it so vaguely the words appeared. Every page filled with memory. Every page filled with legends hardly spoken of.<br /><br />Those inscriptions marked earlier times; an age before many generations. It was the ancient history of when Exes and humans used to cross similar paths. When conflicts did not take place, until human greed overclouded their minds. Dust and ash got swept from the pages as the wind blew by. The words written, now appearing more clearly, read:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">October, 1701 AD</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">There have been many sleepless nights. The fires burnt higher and the cries of the two races could still be heard from a distance. I sat huddled on my chair with a nearly overused smoking pipe. How did it come to this? Events have taken a turn beyond my better judgment. Why did it come to this?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">They speak of humanity, of freedom, and here they pretend to fight for it. Was it just my illusion or was that a mask to obscure their true objective? Where have the friendships and fellowships gone? Where has the blissful unity gone?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">This is something far from all of that. Lord Agean started a massacre that should not have been. The Exes showed nothing but kindness to us. They looked to our every whim and well being. To what extent did this greed take us?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">By edge of axe the Exes were gradually annihilated. I spoke to Vladimir with such shame. He was alert and watchful, hiding in my hut. His eyes struck with fear. His youth bore all the signs of the Ex race. I knew his presence here was no longer safe and I watched him with sympathy. I saw in him such a nobility that humans were not worthy of. His dead silence showed his agony and despair.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“What’s going on Master Sage?” said he with a saddened voice of a helpless child. “Why are we fighting?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“I could give you a reason my boy, but it would not be a just one,” said I, all sorts of passion and hatred passing through me. “It’s not safe for you to stay here any longer Vladimir.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The young Ex slightly nodded his head in understanding, looking silently out of the window, his eyes stained with tears at the sight of his hometown.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">November, 1702 AD</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">It had already been a few months since the Exes vanished. My heart skipped a few beats at the thought of their extinction and I prayed to god for the young Ex to be safe. Then coming events changed the course of time and I stumbled across a map that concealed within a clue I was not aware of. A sacred crescent they said held the silhouette of what looked like an orb. The engravings were deep and the paper seemed to have been torn carelessly out of a book from the lord’s cabin. I retraced the tracks and retreated to the library. What may seem insignificant to the eye bore a great purpose, and from the descriptions that followed the map, I knew this war was not over.</span><br /><br /><br />End of Prologue. The story barely started yet. But I always tend to speak of the past before I head to the present. I'll leave the rest to your imagination and the book.<div class="blogger-post-footer">TripleTee</div>TripleTeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04225826996922576411noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13480620.post-91729018535975921562009-10-21T20:26:00.007+04:002009-10-22T00:54:17.022+04:00The Fruits of My Boredom and Lack of Respect<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.notcot.com/images/bored_frustrated_pink-41.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 370px; height: 286px;" src="http://www.notcot.com/images/bored_frustrated_pink-41.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a>This is a poem I wrote during uni's most boring lecture given by the most boring professor.<br />Someone I recently lost respect for... why?<br />because I have a feeling I know more about the subject he's teaching than he does. All he ever did was read from the book and explain what he was reading in a very unprofessional and bad way. I actually believe some students would be able to explain things better than him.<br /><br />As he was explaining something about the meaning of linguistic intuition. He only explained how linguistic intuition could be acquired... but he apparently couldn't explain or define what linguistic intuition was in the first place... I mean I KNEW what it was... but I wanted to see how he would explain it... so I asked. He answered with.... 'you get it after going through experience in a language'.... so I asked again by saying... I know how it's acquired... my question was... what IS it??<br />His answer then was.... 'This means you didn't read....'<br />Was asking for a simple definition too much to answer?? And perhaps people read but they don't understand?? Is it not his job to explain it?<br />It was obvious that he didn't know how to answer the question and went into something completely irrelevant. The other students realized that as well... since it was not the first time he blamed the students for not reading as an excuse for not having to answer the question.<br /><br />Can I really learn from someone like that? Can I actually have any respect whatsoever towards him?<br />Unfortunately not...<br />to prove to you how easy answering that question is. linguistic intuition is having a feeling for a language after getting used to it. If someone used the wrong grammar in their sentences you would get a feeling that it sounds wrong even though you're not sure why. That's exactly what intuition for language is. And that's all it takes to explain it.<br /><br />Anyway... I got bored... cuz I had no interest in reading through a book in class which I could read better by myself at home. So I wrote this poem to pass time instead<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Here I sit and words fly by<br />Through one end and out the other<br />It's hard to hear those words that fly<br />They're more dull than rainy weather<br /><br />I'm so bored, extremely bored<br />I may not wish to offend<br />Though he's writing on that board<br />I've no mind to comprehend<br /><br />This is it, I've lost the will<br />To live and sit inside this room<br />I am going under hill<br />Bursting to escape this doom<br /><br />I can't wait, but here I am<br />Counting seconds till the end<br />Finally I'm out and damn!<br />Now I know hell's latest trend!<br /><br />TripleTee<br />2009<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">TripleTee</div>TripleTeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04225826996922576411noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13480620.post-6134655446705452652009-10-01T12:23:00.005+04:002009-10-01T14:34:29.578+04:00My Review on Atonement (spoiler)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://10.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_kok2e7EXJz1qzmvlro1_400.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 591px;" src="http://10.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_kok2e7EXJz1qzmvlro1_400.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /> So I watched Atonement since it was one of the movies I transferred from my friend's hard drive. I wanted to see what the big deal was about. I haven't exactly read the book. The movie however was not bad, it was somewhat boring in the middle but it was interesting. That is however not what I wanted to discuss. It's not how good the book or movie was... it's the message that was meant to be passed by the story.<br /><br /> True that girl made a terrible mistake and has forsaken those two's lives because of it. But what I'm going to criticize here is how she chose to atone for it. Does anyone think their mistakes will be forgiven if they write a fake story?? So she chose to write the story that DIDN'T happen but that she wished happened saying that she's giving them the time they deserved together. That sort of spoiled my view on the whole thing. She wanted to atone? Then she should spend her life trying to help other unlucky people who were not able to spend their lives together. Or actually do something good in real life that would rectify her wrongs in the past. Not by writing a fake story. That only makes HER feel good. No one else. It's all just pretty talk.<br /><br />Anyway... felt like writing it here. lol<br />Course any opposing opinions are (somewhat) welcome :p<br />*unlocks her rifle*<div class="blogger-post-footer">TripleTee</div>TripleTeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04225826996922576411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13480620.post-61442214599531983982009-09-19T22:27:00.004+04:002009-10-01T12:38:21.076+04:00Magical Orb RemadeZorac's a character from my story, the 2nd sequel to The Exes. A book that happens to be about 2 races, namely humans and Exes ( a race of my imagination). According to the story's past history Zorac was the father of all Exes and Eleanor was the mother of all Humans. Of course the events in the first book will be further explained in the second. Things that seemed mysterious and puzzling to the readers will be explained in the second sequel. And the history of Zorac and Eleanor is where it all started.<br /><br />I drew the first draft of Zorac 3 years ago. (displayed below)<br /><br /><object height="734" width="450"><param name="movie" value="http://backend.deviantart.com/embed/view.swf"><param name="flashvars" value="id=36881589&amp;width=1337"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><embed src="http://backend.deviantart.com/embed/view.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="id=36881589&amp;width=1337" allowscriptaccess="always" height="734" width="450"></embed></object><br /><a href="http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/36881589/">Magical Orb</a> by ~<a class="u" href="http://tripletee.deviantart.com/">TripleTee</a> on <a href="http://www.deviantart.com/">deviant</a><a href="http://www.deviantart.com/">ART</a><br /><br />This time I've done a remake of him. (below)<br /><br /><object height="737" width="450"><param name="movie" value="http://backend.deviantart.com/embed/view.swf"><param name="flashvars" value="id=137533116&amp;width=1337"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><embed src="http://backend.deviantart.com/embed/view.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="id=137533116&amp;width=1337" allowscriptaccess="always" height="737" width="450"></embed></object><br /><a href="http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/137533116/">Magical Orb Remake</a> by ~<a class="u" href="http://tripletee.deviantart.com/">TripleTee</a> on <a href="http://www.deviantart.com/">deviant</a><a href="http://www.deviantart.com/">ART</a><br /><br />I guess I'm content with the outcome and he happened to be easier to make than the last time.<br /><br />Hope you like it :)<div class="blogger-post-footer">TripleTee</div>TripleTeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04225826996922576411noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13480620.post-89381645505266855382009-09-08T21:17:00.004+04:002009-10-01T12:40:02.481+04:00Arabian Chronicles<div style="text-align: center;">Be warned: Long post<br />Be warned again: Vague and complex post, not easy to understand<br /><br />Arabian Chronicles<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/SqaUBqUl0UI/AAAAAAAAANA/R4sGtZyZ72Y/s1600-h/phelan_hades2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 288px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/SqaUBqUl0UI/AAAAAAAAANA/R4sGtZyZ72Y/s400/phelan_hades2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379149561202069826" border="0" /></a><br /></div> The mood of writing about myself never struck me as something I would do even though the thought did cross my mind. I always found biographies too real to be interesting. That is until I figured that most fiction stories which left a mark in me were issues extracted from reality. How interesting it turned out depended on the writer and in what light people were willing to look at it. I am a daughter of many former dynasties and generations and yet more of a commoner than people believe. What I say or write are thoughts that are either too difficult to put into words or beyond my level to explain. I merely write at my own whim and I remain silent at my own whim all the same. I do not write to please nor upset those who read my words. I write to write. I write to state what is and what has become. I write to live and leave my mark on this world even after I am long gone. Something I believe many before me have done and are still doing now. I will not deny that I feel myself insignificant compared to many great lives that’ve caused so many changes in this world and I do not expect myself to reach their level. I’ve too much humility for that. However, the more I observe life the more I realize how we all go through the same stages. Those great figures now were just like me and you once upon a time. They thought like us, they lived and went through the same experiences we did. So what makes you or me any different? What makes you think that anyone no matter where they come from are any different?<br /><br />The person I am today is very much like she was when she was born 22 years ago, only time and experience have changed the way I started viewing life. And in many cases I do not like what I see. Yet in many other cases I also do. What my experiences made me was an extreme feminist, revolutionist, humanist, and pacifist. It’s a constant battle that’s been going on for centuries. My mind’s gone numb from trying to find solutions to life’s problems. Understanding such disputes is not one of my strengths. But understanding humanity is. I know I’m not the only one with questions of why life is what it is. I know that what I write has most probably been thought of before by someone else. And I know for a fact now that no matter how many times I thought I was the only secluded weird girl, I was too blind to see that many others grew to share my views one way or another. So perhaps I’m not alone. Perhaps life’s outer appearance could be deceiving.<br /><br />If I were to note down the reasons I chose to write this, I could not give a specific answer, because what I’m trying to pass on is a message that’s even puzzling to myself. This message can only be concluded by the reader. Every person sees things in a different light and may see something in what I write that I myself might not realize. There’s also a chance that this might never be read, but I’d like to have it exist nevertheless for myself. Because these thoughts merely stored in the back of my head are a torment. I’m on campus and things my side have been going well. However, certain sights over here sadden me. They’re issues in my country that may be worse in other countries. However as long as where I belong has these issues, it’s what concerns me the most. My ignorance of the past may give me no right to judge, but I know enough to see that something is not right. Histories spoke of kings and rulers throughout generations. I’ve barely heard of the other gender though, my gender. What were they like in my world? What must’ve happened to make them the way they are today?<br />I walk around here seeing nothing but black figures and I hate the fact that I am forced to walk around in the same manner. In these figures I see shame and lack of self confidence in every one of them; because they were made to believe that they were inferior. However what I also see in these figures are trapped birds trying to peck their cages open. I see birds that are prevented from flying and I ask myself why. Why did things turn out this way? What happened in the past to have caused women to be segregated from society and degraded to covered figures who’re in a constant battle of trying to prove their existence? As much as they try to deny it, I know that deep within no sane human would be happy to be in their shoes. I know this because I am one of them. The only difference between me and them is the fact that I refuse to accept it. Because I know something is wrong and this is not the way things are supposed to be. Why do they have to hide themselves behind black veils? What is wrong with who they are and why should they be ashamed to show themselves to the world? Are they not a part of this world? Did they not give birth to humanity? So in what way are they inferior?<br /><br />My country has given them more rights than most other Arabian countries, but certain boundaries still exist and in rural areas conservative families exist more than I ever expected. Yet from what I observed, they’re not the only ones suffering from this. I’ve seen through the fact that men are suffering as well. Because believe it or not these limitations affect their lives too. That is not a sight I like watching. The images in my dreamy mind show a different picture. They show those black figures spring out of their cages into colourful phoenixes. They show the rebirth of females revealed exactly the way they are. And they show men by their side, interacting…. Not miles away from them until betrothed. It’s a harmonious image. It’s relaxing. It’s happy. It’s the real joy of being alive. It’s humane. It’s the world I’d like to be a part of. Somewhere where you are acknowledged is somewhere you belong. Because how could you belong to a place that doesn’t recognize your existence? Where do your allegiances lie? Could you really call that your home? Or do you call it that because you have no other choice? Do not pretend. I see through you. I am you. And you are me.<br />There are boundary issues related to this. Veils are but one barrier. Power is another. You live in the rule similar to the rule of the jungle. The rule that the stronger rules. But what is strength really? Is it strength of the body or strength of the heart? I see strength in those who endure injustice for so long and still find the will to live on. I see strength in those who never give up. And perhaps this attitude is the key to change. Perhaps the change that will make the images in my mind come true.<br /><br />It is true that people do not do harm so proudly more than when they do it out of religious conviction. But you see, even the religious amateur in me can tell that religion is in no way the cause of this, it was merely used to carry out human motives. Used by most of those so called religious fakes who brainwash simpletons for their own objectives. And the result was this gloomy sight I see in front of me now as well as the false media of blaming it on religion. While on the other hand others completely ignore religious teachings according to their own fancy of following culture. On what level do they then call themselves Muslims? Refusing different stereotypes into families was a rule I did not see in our Islamic teachings. Those degraded females however don’t exactly have the choice to refuse to follow such blasphemies.<br />I was told by a friend once. That these rules are the only things Arabs have to be proud of. Culture… backgrounds. Because they lost their advanced selves from the past when technology in other countries overpowered them. But is clinging onto the past really the solution? We are a proud race. But I believe that as long as we live in this dark hole our pride is meaningless. We’ve lost our credibility which can only be retrieved by taking the challenge and focusing on the future. Not dwelling on the past. Do people really understand that? Or are they too busy refusing to copy others out of their own ego? Haven’t we been copied and overruled ourselves? Were we not the best in science ages ago? But these ideas were taken and improved by others? Because they know how to make use of their resources. So perhaps this shows that copying and learning from others is not a bad thing after all? You hold an unnecessary grudge against your rivals. You do not hold a high opinion of the west and yet secretly you admire them. Because they surpassed you. They’re advanced.. That’s why you Arabs do not want to acknowledge them. You’ve lost your confidence in believing in yourselves and chose the easy way out. This may be understandable. But it’s not your key to improvement. There will be no harm in copying them the same way they copied you. Learn from them the same way they learned from you. Surpass them the same way they surpassed you. But most importantly respect them the same way they respect you. I know some don’t. But those are not the ones you should be concerned with. They’re merely the uncivilized ignorants of the flock. Same as we have uncivilized ignorants in our flocks. Those are the ones that try to invite people into our religion as if their own religions are not good. And mind you we have many of those disrespectful people around. Remember that they are similar to you. They’ve grown up believing in their teachings just as much as you have grown up believing in yours. Do not be so ignorant as to enforce your beliefs on others. That’s the sort of disrespect no one appreciates. If you do not wish for people to make fun of your religion especially the reaction Denmark got from that comic. Then do not make fun of other religions. Those are my observations.<br /><br />…. And that concludes my post for today.<div class="blogger-post-footer">TripleTee</div>TripleTeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04225826996922576411noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13480620.post-87502858049340625712009-09-02T15:42:00.005+04:002009-10-01T12:40:59.977+04:00License Retrieved!!Guess who finally got her license!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://fairimmigration.files.wordpress.com/2009/03/driving-license.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 186px; height: 181px;" src="http://fairimmigration.files.wordpress.com/2009/03/driving-license.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Finallyyy!<br />I was almost dying a slow death back there.<br />Even though I was pretty much ready my nerves got the better of me and I ended up shaking. I never thought I was the type to fret over exams because I hardly ever do when it comes to paperwork. But it seems like this time panic just rushed out of me. If I haven't been used to driving already due to the countless practices I had, I would've had a problem. But luckily for the first time luck was on my side. I made no mistakes this time and I could tell the policeman was pleased with my performance. I'm officially a light vehicle driver just like all of you who have the license and are reading this now. :D<div class="blogger-post-footer">TripleTee</div>TripleTeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04225826996922576411noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13480620.post-13905000256777779982009-08-24T11:15:00.017+04:002009-08-24T16:11:15.209+04:00And Yet a Dream Found<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/SpJ9W391isI/AAAAAAAAAMg/5WfBIRClMuY/s1600-h/banner1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 54px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/SpJ9W391isI/AAAAAAAAAMg/5WfBIRClMuY/s400/banner1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373495137340328642" border="0" /></a>This is my new baby...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/SpJ9gWVf9HI/AAAAAAAAAMo/D1RYme71hm0/s1600-h/banner4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 58px; height: 298px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/SpJ9gWVf9HI/AAAAAAAAAMo/D1RYme71hm0/s400/banner4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373495300111463538" border="0" /></a>So I've always wanted a flute when I was young... and before a few days I finally got a silver one. It was a present from a charming French Lady and am almost quite sure it's quite an instrument. I hope to master it if just a little. it wasn't easy to play at first but I think I'm getting the hang of it.<br /><br />Takes a lot of practice though.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/SpJ-hiyRoqI/AAAAAAAAAMw/7teKuCjclNA/s1600-h/banner3.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 340px; height: 136px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/SpJ-hiyRoqI/AAAAAAAAAMw/7teKuCjclNA/s400/banner3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373496420144882338" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><br />III don't caree... what matters now's I got a fluuute...<br />so yeah.... where's C sharp again?? XD<br /><br />One of the songs I plan to learn's down here.<br /><br /><center><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/9Hmfi1sgKIw&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0&amp;color1=0xe1600f&amp;color2=0xfebd01"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/9Hmfi1sgKIw&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0&amp;color1=0xe1600f&amp;color2=0xfebd01" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></center><div class="blogger-post-footer">TripleTee</div>TripleTeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04225826996922576411noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13480620.post-15407873138259431532009-07-26T15:44:00.012+04:002009-10-01T12:44:28.387+04:00Constructive Comments?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i7.photobucket.com/albums/y261/TripleTee9/try.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 424px; height: 186px;" src="http://i7.photobucket.com/albums/y261/TripleTee9/try.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I don't think such a thing exists with kids. It never really mattered before cuz I only shared drawings for the heck of it. Lately I haven't been seeing my friends that often to work with so I wanted the public opinion to see if in their eyes my drawings have improved. That was a big mistake. All I ever got was... awww that's nice.. orr... good stuff. I could tell either they didn't mean it or those are not grown ups commenting. It never mattered when I didn't need it... but it's starting to get annoying. Every time I enter a thread hoping to hear something useful all I get is a routine of nices and good jobs (which I think most just write to be polite)... I've decided to stop sharing there.<br /><br />I was gonna ask about which forum or place to visit in order to get constructive comments from those who know what they're talking about. Well if anyone knows plz share.<br /><br />In case you were wondering what I was talking about. The drawings are here.<br />I know what I said up there would make you readers afraid to comment now... but feel free.. this is my blog.. wont be expecting constructive comments here XD... lol.. here I only share for memoirs as a diary.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/Sm614mld40I/AAAAAAAAALw/I8E9PWJzTJs/s1600-h/trialoutline.png"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0Snk-zwg1V4/Sm614mld40I/AAAAAAAAALw/I8E9PWJzTJs/s320/trialoutline.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363424190279836482" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i7.photobucket.com/albums/y261/TripleTee9/trialdone.png"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 457px; height: 343px;" src="http://i7.photobucket.com/albums/y261/TripleTee9/trialdone.png" alt="" border="0" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer">TripleTee</div>TripleTeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04225826996922576411noreply@blogger.com8